Lonely Girl
by morriganmatron
Summary: Marie is in love with her best friend, Alexa, but they cannot be together. During the night, a man comes and murders Alexa's family, and takes Alexa hostage in his truck. Thus begins the cat-and-mouse game between Marie and the mysterious trucker, whom Marie believes to be the murderer. But things are not always as they seem, and Marie may be even more in danger than she thinks.


I wanted her, and yet I hated myself.

The car bumped along the road, making the radio sputter for a second. It left the air leaning on Alexia's voice alone, and to me it sounded beautiful. I woke up slowly, wiping the sleep from my eyes as the late sunlight filtered through the open car window. We were driving to her house for the week break that we had right before our exams, and already the scenery was breathtaking. It was almost summer, and not a soul had passed us as we drove down the long, winding road to her house in the country. The hills were greener than anything I had ever witnessed in the city, and I had never seen so many clouds. It was nothing like home.

But that was nothing compared to Alexia. I wondered if she knew. I glanced up at her from the back seat, almost as if I was trying to catch her eye in the rearview mirror. She kept humming along to our favorite song, "Sara Perche Ti Amo," oblivious to everything else. I wished I had that sense of naivete.

"Hey, Alex. You want me to drive?"

I should have asked the question earlier. She looked too tired to keep driving, and I'd been sitting back there for the entire time, lost in my own thoughts and sleeping the drive away. I put my hand on the back of the passenger's seat and pulled myself into the front, slumping down next to Alex. She looked at me for a moment, and I smiled. "Both eyes on the road, Alex."

She fake-glared at me, a playful glint in her eye. "My eyes are on the road."

"Not that moment, they weren't." I laughed softly as I lazily grabbed a cigarette from the middle console and lit it. I tried not to sound too irritated, because I wasn't. I was fine. Alex looked at me for a moment as I put the cigarette to my lips. It was like she was going to say something, but then fell silent, closing her mouth.

I was fine as I took a drag from the cigarette. I was fine as I watched the smoke blow from my mouth into the car's interior, wafting around Alex's head. I was fine as I blew the rest out the window, seeing it grow smaller as it headed towards the orange sunset. It's just that I had known what she was going to say next. I knew it had been on her mind all morning, and I could tell by the slight tension in her shoulders that it was weighing heavily on her.

It had been harmless fun, really. I hadn't meant anything to come of it. We had both just had a bit too much alcohol. We danced together, and we fell asleep next to each other. But the thing is, it wasn't that big of a deal. Everyone in the dorm basically did the same thing, I guess.

Everything except for the kiss.

"Marie, I-" Alex had cleared her throat, looking straight ahead. "I know, I remember what happened last night. But here... It's just my parents, our dog, and our farm." She didn't meet my eyes.

"I know." I didn't meet her eyes, either. I had stared at the dusty map in front of me, the one we had used on the interstate when we got lost a few hours ago. "I know," I repeated lamely.

But I wasn't going to let her in on how much I knew. My face settled into a slight frown, but I had tried to sound unfazed and collected. I managed to show no emotion whatsoever as I snuck another glance at her through the rearview mirror. I watched her mouth, set into a stern line, as she licked her lips. She only did that when she was nervous. I didn't want her to think that I had been more aware of what had happened last night than her.

The song skipped a couple of beats then as the car hit a pothole again, the silence cutting into our tension like a butter knife. I paused, unsure of how to respond to her sudden dismissal of what had happened. I thought it there might have been something between us, but I must have been wrong.

I had felt stupid. I felt stupid for letting myself think that she had somehow reciprocated her feelings for me last night, and it had not merely been a risky move done under the influence of a drunken stupor. I absentmindedly ran my hands through my short hair, feeling each of the hairs stick up where my hand had brushed over them. I had cut it into a boy's haircut less than a week ago, and I still wasn't sure how I felt about it. "Your parents know how I look, right? And they're okay with it?"

She licked her lips again, but she had a slight tilt to her mouth. As much of a smile as I was going to get right then, I supposed. "I already told you. I sent them that picture of us in Spain, and they put it in a frame on the fireplace. You're practically part of the furniture." She met my eyes then, just for a moment, in the reflection of the mirror. But as soon as she had made eye contact, she looked straight at the road again.

"My parents will love you."

She looked over at me then, this time with a smile, and shook her head, her brown hair whipping back and forth and catching bits of sunlight in the strands, and I knew that I was forgiven. She looked as brilliant as she did last night, even when she had irritated me by imploring me to wear a dress. She looked like she did that one time I caught her crying in her dorm room, and I tried to comfort her. She looked like all of my past crushes, except she put them all to shame.

She looked like an angel.

I remember this moment as I look at her now, tied up and gagged in the back of the truck of a man who wants to kill us. She looks so fragile, like a moth caught in front of a flame. She's slightly transfixed, but terrified, as she looks back at me. I desperately want to tell her everything will be okay if she just stays quiet, but I know it's no use. She's out of her mind, and nothing I say to comfort her will help now. I put my hand on her temple and brush brunette strands away from her sweat-soaked forehead.

"Shh. It's okay. I'll get us out of here. I promise, Alex. I've almost got it." I look up through the grates above us as I say this, checking to make sure the man hasn't heard my voice yet. The grates are the only thing that separate my friend and I from the killer, and in a flash I'm reminded of watching Alex's mother's death from inside the living room closet. A shiver of panic and something else I can't quite identify goes down my spine, and I break out in a cold sweat as I feel the ghost of her blood stick to my face as I'm forced to relive that horrible scene for a few more seconds. Alex trembles under my fingers, and I can hear a small whimper escape her lips around the gag.

"Alex, trust me. It's almost done." I quietly but quickly grasp for the edges of the knife I left on the bottom of the truck bed and go back to cutting out the door handle. We're both waiting for the car to stall or slow down, knowing that once it does it will mean we are at our destination. We don't want to be at our destination.

The car bumps along violently. I'm reminded of the very different car ride Alex and I shared not twenty-four hours ago, and push harder with the knife, letting my anger fuel my strength. Each time I cut at the metal lock, I tell myself that everything is going to be okay. Alex is going to be okay. One cut. We're going to get out of here. Two cuts. I'm going to be strong enough. Three cuts. I have to be strong enough. Four cuts.

I forgive Alex for what happened the night before. Five cuts.

I shouldn't have let her go, I tell myself. It was my fault. I didn't go help her. I stayed on the sidelines while she and everyone she loved got hurt. I ponder, briefly, how differently this night could have gone if I had just been direct and open. If I had just run downstairs and tackled the man, or called for help. That's what haunts me the most, I realize. I could have called for help, could have at least tried to contact someone. But I didn't, and look where it got me. I didn't, and now everyone my friend ever loved is dead and she probably hates me. I wonder if she will ever forgive me now.

I want her, and yet I hate myself.

"Eyes on the road, Marie."

I smile into the rearview mirror, watching Alex close her eyes again, laying sideways in the passenger seat. I had just tried to sneak another look at her sleeping form, and she must have caught me looking at her. She rolls over to the other side just as I start to slow down as we get close to the exit, the road becoming less flat. I've been driving for a few hours after she had already driven most of the way, so I'm trying to make up for my laziness by taking the night drive. She had been pretty quiet since her outburst, at least until just now. It had been almost calm as I just drove and pushed every other thought from my mind. Especially the thoughts about how Alex's lips had felt on mine last night.

The road ahead is flanked by miles and miles of cornstalks on both sides. It looks somewhat sinister this late at night.

"It's this exit. Take the path for, oh, about four miles." She yawns, covering her mouth with one pale hand. I clench my hands tighter on the steering wheel, trying my best to stop worrying about Marie and focus on the path in front of me.

"Are you sure it's this way?" I ask, doubtful, as I get on the path and feel the uneven dirt road underneath us. "This path sucks."

Alex stretches for a moment and sits up straight. combing her fingers through her hair. "This is it. Only truckers use this road, so it's pretty uneven." She smiles teasingly at me, a laugh almost to her lips. "You'll probably have to buy a new car after this."

A light flashes across my bedroom wall, casting flashing shadows to dance in front of my closed eyelids. I open my eyes, staring at the half-opened window. Is a storm coming, or was it a car's headlights? I pull out my earbuds and get up off the bed cautiously, not wanting to wake up anyone in the house below me. I think it was kind of a crappy idea to put the guest in what almost amounts to the attic, but I'm not complaining. I was able to have the freedom to go outside and have a smoke, so I'd say that Alexia's parents are pretty accommodating, given the circumstances.

The light flashes into the room again, passing by my eyes and causing me to be blinded for a split second. I get on my hands and knees and crawl to the window, trying to see over the sill without letting whoever it is outside see me in the upstairs window. My thumb ring cuts into my finger as I glance down at the scene below me. In the half-light of the moon and the porch lamp, I see a man get out of his car and make his way towards the front door. He's carrying something thin and long in his right hand, but I can't make out what it is at this far a distance.

As I peer down to watch the man get out of his car, I start to feel nauseous. What is this man doing here, at such an early hour? I'm reminded, briefly, about the joke that Alex tried to play on me earlier. I was so scared, but not for myself. I was scared for her, and her family. I guess I've taken it upon myself to help Alex any way I can, and since this is the first time meeting her family, I might as well make the best of it.

The man seems to be some kind of a commercial trucker, but even I would consider it too late at night (or morning, depending on how you look at it) for someone to come knocking at Alexia's family's door looking for a restroom to use.

The doorbell rings, a loud cacophony of sounds that hurt my ears and sounds so different than the song I had had on repeat only moments before. Even after listening to our song over and over again for hours, I still can't fall asleep. My mind keeps drifting to Alex, and how she looked so beautiful sleeping calmly next to me in the car as we drove to her parents' home. She had looked so peaceful, she seemed almost angelic. Her hair had been draped over part of her arm that she had used to support herself. I knew that every time I looked away from her, she had looked over at me, a smile on her face. She probably didn't know it, but I could easily see her reflection in the rearview mirror, and I tried not to smile once she finally caught me sneaking a glimpse of her yet again.

The only excitement we ever get is when a train runs through, I remember Alex telling me as we had picked up our bags out of the trunk of my car and headed into her house earlier this evening. As I glance up over the windowsill again and see the man bang his fist on the wooden door, the odd shiny utensil in his hand reflecting the light of the moon, I wonder if this amounts to her idea of excitement.

The light from the truck suddenly goes out, and the porch lamp swings in the wind. The way it rocks back and forth reminds me of the headlights of my old car pouring through the cornstalks at twilight just hours earlier. It reminds me of how Alex had pulled a prank on me then, possibly trying to loosen the tension between us before I met her parents. She had thought it was funny, but it had only scared me shitless. She had taken me to the heart of the cornfields that had flanked the path to her house and made me believe that there had been a man chasing her.

I think the only reason she had gone to all of the production, my shy little Alex, had been because she had known what I was going to do right before she ran out of the car. It was kind of comical, actually, since we had been listening to the radio at the time. We can fight our desires, I remember the song singing. I thought it had fit pretty well, but I guess Alexia had a different opinion.

I had only wanted to kiss her. I hadn't even made a pass at her, or even leaned over the middle console. As she had jumped out of the car, I remember wondering if she had somehow seen something in my eyes. Did I give her an odd impression, or was she simply that scared of me? She had left the door open, running into the cornfield without glancing back at me.

"I think I can see him!" Alex had yelled from inside the corn maze. I remember turning off the car quickly, just as the song had hit a crescendo as the irritating singer wondered what feelings are without emotions. I could ask the same thing of myself. The air had felt thick and I shut of the lights of the car as well, and got outside and ran after Alex. I left the door open and the keys on the seat.

Loud crashes had sounded all around me, as though the cornstalks were bodies falling down in the field after a ringing gunshot. My heartbeat pounded in my ears as I pushed through the ripe stalks, ears of corn barely yellow blurs in my peripheral vision.

"Alex! Alex, this isn't funny! Where are you?" I had yelled into the pitch black, trying to catch a glimpse of my friend as my heart beat faster. I couldn't hear anything except the crunching of the dead grass underneath me and the erratic thumps of my heart. I slowed just a bit, and caught my breath for a few moments, putting my hands on my knees. From what I could tell, the cornfield was empty except for my shallow and painful breaths being let out into the night. I had looked back and forth through the stalks, hoping that Alex was just playing a trick on me.

"This isn't funny! Cut it out!" My voice had sounded hoarse and frenzied, but I didn't mean for it to sound angry. Rather than trying to get revenge on her for pulling such a ridiculous prank on me, I had wished Alex would just help me find my way out of here, now that I was sure this must be her idea of a sick joke.I had no sense of direction. I had looked both to my right and to my left again, trying to judge how far I had come and what direction the car was. My breath let out a cloud of steam into the increasingly frigid air, leftover from the light winds we had gotten earlier. Looking back on it now, as I kneel in front of the windowsill, I realize we should have just gone to her house, not played tricks on each other like we did.

I had scanned the dark horizon just as I heard a car engine start up from the opposite side of the field. I remember sprinting towards the sound, hoping to death that Alex was really just kidding, and she and I were the only ones in the field.

Needless to say, It had turned out all and good in the end, but I still feel a bit stupid for how easily she tricked me. We had reached her house safely, but I don't think she understood how much that episode had shaken me; I didn't want anything to ever happen to Alex, but I don't think she understands how much she means to me.

All of this flashes past the insides of my eyelids and I stay silent, kneeling in front of the open window, looking down at the man in the grimy work clothes. As he rings the doorbell with more force this time, the nauseous feeling in my stomach comes back again with a vengeance. Just as I wonder why in hell Alex's parents would sleep through something as exciting as this- since they have no neighbors to speak of- I hear her dad get up and start to make his way downstairs.

I have this weird feeling of anxiety, suddenly, but I can't place where it's coming from. Alex's dog barks loudly, making my stomach turn.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Alexia's dad yells as he reaches the last step, pushing past the dog. I keep my eyes on the man outside, watching him reach into his pocket and pull out whatever was reflecting the light of the lamp outside earlier.

Just as I stand up to get a better view of the man and his truck, trying to find out what company he might be from, Alex's father opens the door. The man stares at him for a moment, an odd expression on his face.

Then he plunges his butter knife into Alex's father's eyes, oblivious to the poor man's screams of agony.


End file.
